Wetstone crept low through the undergrowth, paws soundless against the damp earth. His green eyes narrowed as he fixed on the striped polecat slinking just ahead, its pelt flashing between ferns. The deputy’s muscles bunched, whiskers quivering, and with a swift bound he lunged—only for the creature to dart from beneath his claws and vanish into the bracken with a scuffling bark. Wetstone stood still, tail lashing once in irritation. He hissed.
"Mousedung!"
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